hunting party

we leave early. you with your 
gun & me with my wings. 
we walk until we are on all fours.
until our hands are hooves. we go
to play this game with each other. 
once you told me it was a celebration.
when you are afraid of losing me
you tell me you love me over & over.
the words start to mash into each other.
unlanguaging in the daybreak. 
when you are feeling extra generous
you give me a headstart. you say,
"run" & so i go. the forest doesn't end.
i go deeper. i get so far i unspecies 
& then i am a sound. the sound of 
your voice peeling backwards. i will
admit that i enjoy when you hunt me.
it is like finally a twist in the celebrations.
everywhere i go someone has a gun. 
someone has an idea big enough 
to swallow us all. someone is making 
a flag to honor colonizers or terrible men
or both. when you hunt me i think,
"at least he'll use all parts of me."
the antlers & the hooves & the teeth
stitched into a dress you'll wear when 
we are laying & walking our laughing box.
in some versions of the world there are 
nesting dolls of violence. of course i like
the smallest ones best. your hands. your flesh.
our forest. our night. the hunt does not
have to end with the day. we could do this 
until our bodies are dust. once in the night
i stumbled upon a campsite. an man 
was holding his wife & devouring all
of her hair. i covered my eyes. i was not
meant to see. our intimacies are breathing
on each other. when you finally get me 
hold me tight. let us eat something sweet
together. you always tell me i am too 
devoted to grapes. i know i buy too many.
my secret is that in my throat i feel the globes 
becoming bullets. i am the most loaded gun.
the trigger, somewhere else. i stay full. 
you gut me the following dusk. 
music plays on a tin can radio as you do.